


the art of detaching one’s heart

by Nervouslaughter508



Series: mandalorian fics [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Eventual recovery, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, hinted caradin and bobadin, season two spoilers i'm warning u now, this is my first mandalorian work so everyone might be ooc, warning: i am briefly mean to bo katan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervouslaughter508/pseuds/Nervouslaughter508
Summary: lost in space, we flew astray/ i'll find my way/ to get to youhearts may change, but memories won't/ you know i don't/ i don't want to goin which: din has too many feelings he's never had to work through before.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & Fennec Shand, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Series: mandalorian fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119692
Comments: 8
Kudos: 114





	the art of detaching one’s heart

**Author's Note:**

> title from phum viphirit and jenny and the scallywags. big mood.(technically it's a break-up song but i thought it was fitting.)

There’s a theory that goes around, about love. The theory says that love can be split into different categories, and when you have all of them, you’re fulfilled. The theory is unpopular, in some ways, but it’s all Din can think of, sitting with his back against the wall. In order to be fulfilled, you must have love for one’s friends, love for one’s family, love for one’s job, and love for oneself. 

Din would’ve been happy, fulfilled with one. 

* * *

“You’re going to see him again.” Cara says. Her shoulder bumps with Din’s and the touch sends something like warmth throughout his body. He knows out of respect, she won’t bring up the helmet even though it’s resting in the air like a thick poisonous fog. 

“Do you think what I did was right?”

Cara considers, pursing her lips. They’re sitting in the hangar, to avoid a fuming Bo itching to fight and her vaguely apologetic lackeys. He knows she’ll be honest, she’s always been, it’s always been one of her best qualities along with that relentless trust and loyalty. 

“It depends on what- who you’re asking for?” 

“For Grogu.” 

Cara nods. “I do.” 

Din nods, relieved. “I’ve always tried to keep him safe. He can do that best.” 

“But as for yourself…”

Din stares down at his hands. Maybe honesty isn’t what he needs. 

* * *

Boba and Fennec offer comfort in another way. 

Fennec offers a drink. Din can’t stomach it, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to for a while. She claps his shoulder in a way that’s somewhat empathetic, and they sit in silence. It’s nice, in a way. Calm. 

Boba, on the other hand, seems to take it personally. 

“We could track him down, and get him back like it’s nothing.” He promises, jamming his finger on the dashboard. 

Din sighs, exasperated. “I told you, the Jedi is what's best-” 

“You got your kid back, and you gave him away like that?” Boba interrupts. “To _that_ Jedi? To a _cult_?”

Din pulls on his index finger. “It was what was best. And it wasn’t a cult.”

“For you or him?” Boba is insistent to know. He’s thumbing his recently repainted helmet, with something akin to annoyance. 

“Does it matter?” Din barks, losing his composure. “For him!” 

Boba raises his eyebrows and sits back, wearing a very repressed emotion. “Do you think your kid sees it that way?”

Grogu must know he didn’t want it to be like that. He has to, right? No, Grogu is smart, much smarter than Din. This isn’t about Grogu. 

“Kids... need their parents.” Boba says after a while. As if Din hasn’t been repeating it internally for hours. Days, even. 

Cara comes in, eyes aflame and blaster held. “I heard shouting.” she eyes Boba suspiciously, shoulders tense. He raises an eyebrow at her in a challenging manner. 

“It’s fine,” Din says tiredly, motioning down with his hands to get her to lower her gun. 

Fennec, who’s also stood up, sits, as well as Cara and the four of them sit for a while, listening to the buzz of the engine. He has an inkling they’re all thinking about Grogu. 

It’s nice to not be alone, for now. 

* * *

“So what comes next?” Cara asks a day after, as they're on the way to Nevarro. Din has the feeling she’s been resisting the urge to ask for his sake. 

“Tatooine for us.” Fennec says. She doesn’t elaborate anymore. Boba is eager to. 

“Dismantling the Hutts. Galaxy’s been unbalanced for too long, it’s time to take charge.” 

Cara looks rather amused by the news. “That’ll be interesting.” 

“And yourself?” 

“Back to Nevarro. Clean up the mess left by Mayfield.” Cara says. She’s looking at Din, but Din is staring off. 

“Reconquering a planet for you, I assume.” Fennec says to Din, snapping him out of his revere. Boba starts to laugh, a low rumbling sound. He’s been steadily laughing about the situation ever since he picked up the straggled gang on the cruiser. All Din wants to do is go back to his ship (gone) and his kid (gone). He gives a half hearted answer. Everything seems to be.

* * *

The silver ball is loud, sitting up on the bunk. It’s drawing his attention, to the point when all he wants to do is open the hangar and throw it out. 

He’d probably go diving after it, if not to save some piece of him.

* * *

“We have room for one more,” Boba offers, later. 

Din smiles, even though theres no way for Boba to see it. He’s shoved his helmet back on. Its a feeble attempt to go back to how he was (before) and everyone knows it, but he doesn’t care. This is the way. 

This _was_ the way. 

“I appreciate it.” he says. “But I’m going back to Nevarro.” 

Boba eyes between him and Cara who’s silently cleaning off that little knife Din still hasn’t figured out where she hides. Her boot, maybe. “I see. You know where to find me, if anything changes.” 

This is the man who gave Din his bunk every night since the Razor Crest went up in flames. Din knows they’re both thinking of the two of them colliding. A cascade of warmth. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He's been so cold lately.

* * *

He’s been running through the days like they’re credits. He can’t stop, doesn’t stop, won’t stop, if he does, his thoughts and feelings will barrage into him and knock him ten feet into the ground. He relentlessly goes after clients, much more brutally than he used to. Cara demands if he thinks he has something to prove one night after separating him from an unconscious man. She’s probably been looking for him for days. He hasn’t stopped. 

_No_ , he itches to yell at her, always right, always there. _I have something to avoid._

Cara sighs and pulls him into a hug. He refuses to accept, and he can feel the burning tears screaming to be released, but Cara holds on tighter, and he buckles, literally and physically, pulling her down with him. 

He doesn’t notice until he’s gasping for air, that his shoulder is wet too. Maybe Cara can feel the sharpness of his ribs, the hot tears, maybe she can smell him, maybe she feels the same way. 

She’s always been observant like that, Cara Dune. 

* * *

She’s left out some food for him. He cried cleansing sobs into her shoulder last night, and they fell asleep so close, close enough to spread warmth waves throughout his chest. 

When she comes back that day, he’s sitting with his helmet off, thumbing the ball. She averts her eyes, out of respect. 

“Have you eaten?” 

He nods. “Do you remember, when we met, and he was sipping the soup and watching us like it was the best show he’s ever seen?” 

Cara cracks a smile. “I do.” 

Din misses him so much, he misses him like he’s ever missed anything. He misses the cooing, his curious expressions. He misses the comfortable weight in his arms, his trusting little hands, on Din’s face. His sweet, big eyes. 

“At the very least,” he says, beginning to laugh for the first time in a long time. “At the very least, we can arm wrestle for now.”

Cara gapes at him, but his laugh sounds so healthy, so full, she joins in, and they laugh until their ribs and cheeks ache, and tears spill out of the corner of their eyes. 

_For now._

And slowly, faintly, like the hum of a heart, he’s started to care for himself the way he used to care about the Kid. Slowly, faintly, but surely.

**Author's Note:**

> oof not really sure abt how i feel about the ending but! i didn't know what else could be said.  
> pls leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed! (they are my only source of validation in this year of 2020)


End file.
